Sundress Reads: Review of Transcendent Gardening

A memorial surrounded by bullets. Swirling white text displays the title "Transcendent Gardening." Displayed at the bottom in white letters: "By Ed Falco."

Ed Falco’s 2022 novel, Transcendent Gardening (C&R Press), is a brilliant work of prose set in Redvale, Georgia in 2016. Though the city and characters are fictional, themes from the story such as violence, loneliness, and the spread of information are incredibly prevalent in today’s reality. The book’s epigraph is by Matthew Zapruder’s poem, “Come On All You Ghosts.” Falco invites readers to see beyond the text through the poem’s final line, “I have to say something important,” which explains the creations of the monsters that follow. 

Violence infests the world of Transcendent Gardening. Falco obliterates the possibility of a story of love, joy, and human connection with the introduction of terror, frustration, and loneliness. This world eats up its characters and spits them into the mud and muck. In many ways, Falco creates monsters, leaving the reader to decide which of his creations is the scariest. The reader witnesses Angel Maso, who is aware he requires help, descend into madness. Through thought and action, Angel demonstrates the violence and chaos of the world, as well as the potentially life-altering consequences of ignoring warning signs. 

This is the story of a lonely man. One who becomes so disconnected from reality, so involved with the dismemberment of his life and psyche, that he becomes separated from all humanity. When Angel drifts far from the ground, his daughter can no longer see him in his eyes (Falco 208). Falco offers a fresh perspective on the intersections between mental health and violence and reminds his readers that tools of violence are superfluous solutions to many of the issues that arise from these intersections. In the end, the reader grieves Angel’s mental health alongside the victims of his actions. 

One continues to become immersed in Falco’s world, keenly aware of the palpable suspense he creates. Falco fosters a familiarity with his characters, an understanding of them as thinking beings, and, at the very apex of the reader’s love for these creations, he drops a bomb. The result: the reader’s world rocks in time with Falco’s plot. Escalation and suspense are as present in this Transcendent Gardening as the characters themselves. One trusts Falco to deliver on the promises he makes early in the book—words and thoughts foreshadow the kinds of violence that result in loss, but no one can prepare for the heart-wrenching catastrophe that is this book’s climax. 

Falco also offers a brilliant depiction of the modes by which history is recorded. Media reports, eyewitness testimonies, and fantastical speculations in Transcendent Gardening often obscure, and in some cases even erase, the truth. For example, the media labels Angel the “Angel of Death” (Falco 184). By glorifying the perpetrator rather than relaying facts and causes, those involved are swept into fantasy, creating stories and motives from thin air. Some even claim to have seen ISIS at the incident and to have heard yelling in Arabic, which the reader knows to be untrue (Falco 185). Such idolization of extreme acts of violence and assignment of terror to a group of unseen individuals leads to the ignorance of historical facts. These stories often excuse the need to look into structural issues that may require attention. In other words, Falco’s novel is a portrait of a leaky house. One may blame water for the destruction of the house and, once a villain is named, see no need to inspect how the water entered. Falco sparks a brilliant discussion on how to prevent future damage by patching cracks in the foundation. 

Transcendent Gardening isn’t all doomsday-level crime and terror. Falco is skilled in depicting deep human connection. His characters fall in love; they make impossible decisions; they become elated and embarrassed and empathize with one another. Angel uses gardening to ground himself to the Earth. Doll squashes her morals for her career. Claire forgives her father for heinous acts of violence. Falco handles potent feelings such as grief, hatred, fear, and loneliness with grace. He paints a best-case scenario in a world where violence is a given, and he gently offers a refreshing perspective on reoccurring problems. That said, this book is potentially triggering to many, especially those who have been affected by gun violence. Falco wants his readers to sit in these uncomfortable feelings. A call to action lurks beneath one of the novel’s concluding lines: “Nothing…was ever going to put an end to the violence in men’s hearts, but you could at least limit their access to the weapons that encouraged it” (Falco 207). If read with care and interest, the book offers hope that our world may contain more balance and empathy in the future.

Transcendent Gardening is available at CR Press.


Woman with Blonde hair in black turtleneck stands before blurred background of trees and sun.

Kenli Doss holds a BA in English and a BA in Theatre-Performance from Jacksonville State University. She is a freelance writer and actress based out of Alabama, and she spends her free time painting scenes from nature or writing poetry for her mom. Ken’s works appear in Something Else (a JSU literary arts journal), Bonemilk II by Gutslut Press, Snowflake Magazine, The Shakespeare Project’s Romeo and Juliet Study Guide and A Midsummer Night’s Dream Study Guide, and The White Cresset Arts Journal.

Project Bookshelf: Kenli Doss

A shelf of actor-edition plays, arranged by color.

I consider myself a professional word consumer. I consume news articles with my morning coffee. I snack on books and poems and stories throughout the day. I spend most of my working hours with my nose pressed firmly in the crease between two pages. I’m also a collector. I forage for these sweet things. I catch my favorite parcels with words and pages and spines, and I store them in my home like jarred prototypes: physical reminders of the metaphysical worlds I’ve visited.

So, naturally, when Sundress prompted me to write about what’s on my bookshelf, the first thought was, “Which shelf?” I bumbled from one bookcase to another looking for inspiration, and, when I eventually found my answer, it wasn’t tucked between Frankenstein and 10 Minute Einstein on a shelf of paper and ink. No, I found the inspiration I was seeking, my panacea, my muse incarnate in the form of a small plastic disk dusted with decades of memories, not a book but a DVD.

Pagemaster (1994) was the film that launched my obsession with all things books. From reading to writing to dreaming of swallowing whole pages, this film sparked the interest that created that proverbial itch for words I hope I never outgrow.

“Are you fiction or non-fiction?”

Adventure, Pagemaster

Unlike Pagemaster‘s tiny hero Richard Tyler (Macaulay Culkin) who faces horror, adventure, and fantasy on the shelf, I have non-fiction to contend with, and a lot of it. That’s not to say I don’t enjoy the odd fantasy novel here and there, but the real-life science, art, and philosophy? That’s where my collection really shines.

A cluttered black bookshelf. A hanging plant in a blue pot can be seen in the corner, and a disco ball hangs from the pot to the lower left, where more books, a green vase, and a lipstick plant sit.

The non-fiction writers generally invited to my shelf include your typical bunch of scientists and philosophers: Marx, Camus, Sartre, Einstein, Neil DeGrasse Tyson. Okay, that last one is new, but his book Astrophysics for People in a Hurry got me through twelve-hour days in college theatre. Besides the scholarly books and baubles, there is also a handful of 19th century gardening books found at an estate sale in Tuscaloosa. Then, there’s the inevitable section for the betterment of my soul, including such editions as Under the Skin: The Hidden Toll of Racism on Health in America by Linda Villarosa and Upton Sinclair’s The Jungle. Each of these books has served as a drop of paint in the mural of my imagination, and I hope the trove only grows.

“You really are a classic.”

Fantasy, Pagemaster

Much like Long John Silver in his search for Treasure Island, I am on my own adventure: a search for something sweeter, shinier, and more impressive. And, like Richard Tyler, I found my gold in the books that beckoned from the shelf, specifically the so-called “classics.”

Jane Austen wrote my soul with edits made by the Brontë sisters. Austen’s Pride and Prejudice is as integral to my heart as any blood vessel, and it would be wrong not to mention such a testament to my mind as a romantic. On my shelf, she’s surrounded by Vonnegut, Poe, Gaskell, Alcott, and Shakespeare. Beside Pride and Prejudice sits my copy of the First Folio of Shakespeare as ruler of my soul. These are my treasures. This is my gold.

“Are you sure that swizzle stick of yours is working right?”

Adventure, Pagemaster

Consuming books isn’t all about reading, and I dedicate a large portion of my study time to annotations. In my head, a book gains more value when a reader scribbles down their thoughts, concerns, and objections in the margins. I would much rather receive any old, used copy with pen marks and highlights and penciled-in exclamations than a stiff-spined, fresh-paged edition. Where’s the soul? Thus, I scribble and encourage others to scribble. The world would be a happier place with more scribblers.

A black bookshelf filled with books. In the foreground, a purple copy of Little Women is stacked on The Gilded Years, also purple. A pumpkin figurine occupies the bottom right.

Toward the end of Pagemaster, after Richard Tyler escapes the murderous dragon and makes it safely to the exit sign, he wants to know what’s going on. He knows the Pagemaster is in control, and he demands an explanation. The Pagemaster explains to young Richard Tyler that if he’d never stepped foot in the library he “never would have found the courage to face [his] own fears.”

“In this very room waiting to strike are forces of evil.”

Dr. Jeckel, Pagemaster

My fears are the feelings of anxiety around what I call the four horsemen of the failed career: Plagiarism, Failure, Dullness, and Rejection. I, too, slay dragons. Only my proverbial fire-breathing monster takes the form of anxiety-induced writer’s block. So, when I find myself glued to the keyboard, fingers stiff and unmoving, brain backfiring, I look to the shelf. Those flimsy pieces of cardstock inked in words and phrases and ideas, they hold the cure. Like Richard Tyler, these treasures offer me a ride out of the beast’s gigantic belly: out of the writer’s block stupor, and onto the page.

Which, at last, brings me to my answer, or as precise an answer as I can give, anyway. What’s on my bookshelf? Hundreds of years of ink and words and treasures of all shapes, sizes, and genres. What’s on my shelf? A glowing lightbulb: my secret to slaying dragons.


A white woman with blonde hair wearing a black turtleneck stands before a blurred background of trees.

Kenli Doss holds a BA in English and a BA in Theatre-Performance from Jacksonville State University. She is a freelance writer and actress based out of Alabama, and she spends her free time painting scenes from nature or writing poetry for her mom. Ken’s works appear in Something Else (a JSU literary arts journal), Bonemilk II by Gutslut Press, Snowflake Magazine, The Shakespeare Project’s Romeo and Juliet Study Guide and A Midsummer Night’s Dream Study Guide, and The White Cresset Arts Journal.